Your One-Stop Talk Shop Stop

Occasional Poem — Lisel Mueller

On summer nights the world
moves within earshot
on the interstate with its swish
and growl, an occasional siren
that sends chills through us.
Sometimes, on clear, still nights,
voices float into our bedroom,
lunar and fragmented,
as if the sky had let them go
long before our birth.

In winter we close the windows
and read Chekov,
nearly weeping for his world.

What luxury, to be so happy
that we can grieve
over imaginary lives.

There are things this poem does which I like, and it does them well, which is why I like this poem.

I especially like the description of the voices as “lunar and fragmented/as if the sky had let them go long before our birth.” Fantastic — simple, strong words used to evoke a feeling of momentousness.

And the final stanza is overflowing with pith. You want pith? Feast on that.

My only complaint is the line “that sends chills through us.” It’s too abrupt and sort of kills off the rhythm of the opening image. 03971semajmeopcco

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This is a beautiful poem and I agree with most of what you say. She has captured those wonderful feelings, particularly the last stanza, that we all have but, being overwhelmed or undertalented, are unable to put into words.

Don’t you think, though, that the line “that sends chills through us” is supposed to be stark, cutting through us the way the sirens send chills through the poet and her lover?